


Little Hurts

by renecdote



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Scars, Soft Eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: Buck has thirty-eight scars, and Eddie could map every single one of them blindfolded.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 218





	Little Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a warm up prompt by buckthehalls on tumblr.

There is a scar on Buck’s ring finger. It is jagged and curving, but thin, faded to near invisibility. Eddie traces it, thinking that Buck must have been young when the injury happened. There is a story there, he’s sure, one that Buck has never offered and Eddie has never asked about. He could; and Buck would probably tell him. They tell each other all sorts of things they don’t tell anyone else. And Eddie has no reason to think that it’s a bad story, really, but—

He likes imagining. From the tame explanations—his finger got caught in a door—to the wild—a pet bunny tried to gnaw the digit off. There is something thrilling about knowing there are still things he has yet to discover about Buck’s body, even after all these years. One day, he might ask, but for now he likes the mystery.

He doesn’t think anyone else knows about this particular scar. It’s not big, it’s not in the kind of place you’d notice, and—these days—it’s usually hidden even more by the ring on Buck’s finger. The inscription on the inside of the platinum band rests right against the scar: _you can have my back any day_. There is a matching inscription hidden against the unscarred skin of Eddie’s ring finger: _or you could have mine_.

Eddie knows he can’t protect Buck from every little hurt in the world. He definitely can’t protect him from the ones that have already happened. The puckered scar on his hip; the thin white line where his appendix used to be; the warped reminder of a bad burn crawling up his shoulder blade; the stretch marks on his thighs and lower back; the thick, ropy scars not hidden by the hair on his leg; the almost invisible one above his eyebrow. Their jobs are dangerous. _Life_ is dangerous. Eddie has scars of his own; maybe more than Buck, not that he has ever counted. He doesn’t like to think about his own scars.

But Buck—Buck has thirty-eight scars, and Eddie could map every single one of them blindfolded. (He has, in fact, done just that on more than one occasion.) Buck isn’t self-conscious about them either. Not about most of them, anyway, because Eddie knows that he still hates the ones on his leg. Hates thinking about them and talking about them and having them visible in public if he can avoid it.

“I don’t remember a lot of that night,” he confided to Eddie the only time he ever asked why. “But the first day I was out of the hospital, I watched the news report. I watched it all happen the way everyone in LA watched it happen, and—everyone already saw, Eds, more than I ever wanted them to. I don’t—”

His voice didn’t break, but it stumbled, tripping over memories and emotions he didn’t know how to make anyone else understand. Eddie squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I get it.”

And the look on Buck’s face when he realised Eddie wasn’t going to make him scrape himself raw explaining was pure, unabashed relief.

Eddie never lingers over the scars on Buck’s leg. It’s only when Buck’s leg is bothering him, when Eddie massages the tension and the pain away, that he lets himself give them the attention they deserve.

_You’re beautiful_ , he says with the sweep of his thumbs.

_You’re brave_ , he says with the rolling pressure of his palms.

_You survived, you keep surviving every day_ , he says with the gentle grasp of his fingers. _And I am so damned proud of you._

They’ve been best friends for seven years, together for four (and a half, if he counts over that rough patch in the middle), married for two, and Eddie is still amazed that he gets to have this. He gets to have _Buck_. His heart, his smile, his trust. His scars, too, and the sleepy flutter of his eyelashes, the scrunch of his nose and the questioning grunt as he stirs and realises Eddie is awake beside him.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

Eddie smiles, tangling their fingers together and lifting Buck’s hand between them so he can press a kiss to his knuckles. He isn’t wearing his wedding ring tonight; it’s sitting in the box on the dresser, bypassed in a fog of exhaustion after a grueling twenty-four hour shift that went three hours too long.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him.

Buck smiles, slow and sweet, like he can’t help himself, the words just as thrilling as they were when they were new between them. “I love you too.”

Eddie really is the luckiest guy in the whole damn world.

Buck rearranges them; Eddie on his back with Buck draped over his chest, head on his shoulder. His breath is warm against Eddie’s skin, his hair soft and citrus scented. Eddie wriggles, getting comfortable, and one of Buck’s legs slips between his own. Buck sighs, content, and Eddie feels the same feeling spread through his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Buck asks quietly.

“You.”

Buck’s chin tips up, curious; Eddie’s eyes are closed now, but he feels the movement against his collarbone. Buck is probably biting his lip, the way he does when he’s anxious or uncertain.

“About that roof collapse today?”

Eddie definitely can’t protect Buck from more scars when he insists on taking risks at work. Not unless he changes who Buck is; gets rid of his big, caring heart, his devotion, his selflessness and determination. All those things that Eddie loves about him.

He shakes his head. “No, just… how lucky I am that you chose me.”

“Oh.” Buck’s smile is clear in his voice and the press of his lips against Eddie’s bare chest. “I’m pretty lucky you chose me too.”

Eddie runs a hand up his spine, fingers brushing over the scars on his shoulder. If he shifts his leg, he can feel the bumps of the scars on Buck’s leg. To anyone else, they might look like imperfections, but to Eddie they’re just one more thing that makes Buck perfect. One day, he’ll ask Buck about that scar on his finger, and he’ll love him even more because of the story behind it. But for now, here, with Buck in his arms, warm and happy and likely to drool on Eddie’s chest before the night is up—it’s enough. It’s more than enough.

It’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are love 💛 You can also find me on tumblr [here](https://renecdote.tumblr.com/).


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